


Sweet Thing

by coloursflyaway



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Kingsman: The Secret Service RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taron and Colin just became more than friends, but Taron still has a secret he needs Colin to know - he's had relationships like this one before... and he always called his partners <em>daddy</em> in bed.</p><p>A/N: The Hartwin is just a few lines in the story, so if that is not enough for you, I'd suggest scrolling past this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mitslits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/gifts).



 

„Okay, Colin, wait.“ Taron’s hands are in his hair, his lips still whispering over Colin’s skin and yet he is pulling away. It does take some long moments until Colin understands what the other is saying, because his mind is still reeling from the taste of Taron’s lips, from finding out that this beautiful, radiant, bright young boy is just as mad for him as Colin is for Taron a little more than a week ago.  
“What?” It’s the only thing that comes to his mind, the only question he can possibly ask, half scared that Taron has changed his mind and half confused why the other would want to stop when they have just started.

Taron looks impossibly pretty like this, his lips swollen and pink and his eyes hooded, but still determined. He takes a step back, drops his hands, even when they are still twitching at his sides, as if he could hardly keep them to himself.  
“It’s… God, this is embarrassing.” And really, there is a faint hint of blush on Taron’s cheeks, which looks adorable and absolutely fetching, makes Colin want to step forward and kiss the colour off Taron’s face. “But better to get it out now, right? Before I accidentally – well. Anyway. I’ve done this before.”  
“...what? Sex?”  
“No! Wait, _yes_ , of course. That too. But that was not what I meant.” If anything, Taron looks more embarrassed than before, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he feels completely out of his depth. It’s a thrilling thought that he can read the other like this. “What I meant is… this. Sex with… older men. And it’s always been… Um. Different than normal, I guess?”

Colin thinks of whips and butt plugs with tails attached to them, thinks of cock cages and collars, but then Taron says, looking ready to bolt, “I called them daddy.”  
And alright, that is a kind of different Colin has not expected.  
“Daddy?”  
Taron nods mutely, his eyes downcast and his cheeks an even deeper, but not less pretty, pink. Still, Colin doesn’t like seeing the other like this, as if he expected to be laughed at any second, so he reaches out, pulls Taron closer again so he can press a little kiss to his lips.

His mind is reeling, like he would have expected it to, not horrified, not disgusted, not even put off, like Taron most likely feared; it’s so much simpler than that. Colin is old enough to know not to be surprised at what can get people, even himself, off anymore.  
It’s nothing that he would ever have considered himself, no, but if that’s what gets Taron off, he’s at least willing to try, that’s the least he can do. There’s a good chance he won’t be into it, and if so, they’ll work something out; if he is, well, even better for both of them.

“So, what should I call you then?”, Colin asks and Taron looks up at him, wondrous and excited at the same time. The blush is still high up on his cheeks.  
“Depends, really. You can just call me Taron… or you could call me baby instead. Or any other nickname, really.”  
It's subtle, but the other’s voice goes a little bit deeper, a little bit softer when he talks about the nicknames, and that is enough for Colin to make his decision, being rather certain that it’s the right one. If he’ll do this, he’ll do it right.  
“Alright, darling.”

This time, it’s Taron who kisses him, his lips gentle and yet everywhere at once, his mouth and his jaw and his cheek. It makes Colin wonder just how long the boy has been thinking about this, if he touched himself fantasising about calling Colin daddy, and even if he still isn’t sure about anything can’t deny that the thought is making him a little bit dizzy.  
He kisses Taron back, nips at his lips, until the other pulls away to mutter, “Thank you.”  
Nothing more, but there is no need to specify, Colin knows what he means, answers, “Anything for you, darling.”

It seems that the little term of endearment is enough to make Taron go crazy; he kisses him again, fiercer now, hands sliding further up over Colin’s hips, his sides, as if he couldn’t get enough of touching him. Which would fit so well, because Colin can’t get enough of touching Taron either, puts a hand on Taron’s waist and uses the other one to angle Taron’s head so he can kiss him deeply, lick into the other’s mouth.

Taron moans and Colin nips at his bottom lip, strokes his fingers over the boy’s jaw, then down his throat, feeling Taron’s pulse jump under his fingertips.  
“What do you want me to do to you, baby?”, he asks, and Taron shivers, and oh, maybe Colin should have taken the other’s words even more literal, should have gone with this nickname all along, no matter how strange it tastes on his tongue.

“Daddy…”, Taron breathes out, blushing, but sounding overwhelmed and more than just turned on, gripping Colin’s hips harder, as if he needed something to ground himself. “Touch me, please.”  
And that is just what Colin intends to do. He pulls back, although it is hard to do so, stepping away from Taron to sit down on the bed. He reaches up to undo the two top buttons of his shirt, while Taron just stands there, breathing heavily and waiting to be told what to do.  
It must be part of the game, and, well, it might just be right up Colin’s alley.  
“Undress”, he tells Taron, gentle but firm and there is a moment in which Taron just looks at him, silently, then he pulls his shirt up over his head.

He has seen Taron without a shirt before, both on set and the last time two nights ago in Taron’s trailer, when he had had the boy pushed against the wall, kissing him until they were called back to the set, and yet it feels like it’s the first time.  
Taron is broad, well-built, his skin flawless and just tan enough that Colin wants to taste, wants to touch. His muscles are flexing when Taron reaches down to undo the button of his pants, his cheeks reddening again, and Colin feels his cock twitch in anticipation when the other pulls down the zip.

The pants go quickly, fall off Taron’s hips and the other’s cheeks are as red as his boxer briefs and Colin waits until he is certain that the other isn’t moving before he says, “Those too.”  
Taron’s hands hesitate, and Colin is almost considering taking back his words when the boy pushes his boxer briefs off too, reveals his hard, pretty cock. It’s leaking, twitching when Taron realises that Colin’s eyes are glued to it, and without looking away, Colin beckons the other to come closer.

He does, and he’s all grace, all perfect shyness, and now it’s Colin, who is feeling overwhelmed, can’t help but reach out and touch, put his hands on Taron’s hips and pull him closer, onto his lap.  
The other yelps, but brings his arms up to wrap around Colin’s neck within seconds, a little smile on his lips.  
“Oh, hi”, he mutters, and Colin kisses him, not meaning to lick into his mouth and doing so anyway, his hands slowly sliding up Taron’s naked sides before he dares to let them slip to the front, teasing Taron’s nipples.  
“Hello”, Colin greets back a few seconds too late, but Taron doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes glazed over with lust. “You did so well for me, such a good boy…”

He’s improvising, using whatever he can still remember of the few porn movies he’s seen that dealt with things like this, but it seems to work; Taron’s head tips back, exposing his lovely neck, and Colin can’t help but lean in and kiss it, his fingers continuing to pinch and rub Taron’s nipples.  
There are soft sounds coming from the other, breathless and desperate and impossibly sweet, which make Colin nip on Taron’s jaw, suck a mark just underneath it, making sure it is light enough that it won’t take much make-up to cover it. As much as he would like to claim Taron completely, shout it out in the world, he can’t, at least not when they are both needed on set the next morning.

Maybe one day when he can spirit Taron away to a faraway city, can show him the world, they’ll have the chance to leave marks and bites and scratches down the other’s back.  
For now, Colin sticks to light kisses, quick sucks, to one of his hands sliding down Taron’s stomach to cup his cock lightly, not stroking, just giving the boy something to rub against. It draws another perfect moan from Taron’s lips, his hips moving, rolling into Colin’s touch.  
“Jesus, Colin”, he gasps, and Colin just smirks against the other’s throat, licks across one of the few love bites he allowed himself to leave.

He would gladly do this for the rest of the night, let Taron rub himself off against his hand, but today seems a bit more important than that, especially since it’s so seldom that they have the time to just enjoy each other’s body. So Colin gives the boy another few moments before he pulls his hand away, making Taron whine.  
“Daddy, no”, he mutters, the pout audible in his voice, and Colin is starting to understand the appeal of that word, or at least his cock does. “Touch me again.”

“I will”, Colin promises, leans up to press a soft kiss to Taron’s lips, licking the next whine off them. “Lay down on the bed, baby, on your stomach.”  
He doesn’t do as he is told immediately, but he does in the end, gets up (and oh, how Colin misses his weight on top of him, his warmth) and crawls onto the mattress, flopping down in the middle. It's not graceful, not this time, almost petulant, and Colin can’t help but chuckle, brush his fingers over Taron’s thigh.  
Colin could never have thought of it, but it seems that the simple words Taron asked for all but transform him. He’s always been sweet, but now he seems almost vulnerable, he’s always been lovable, but now he’s utterly endearing. And if this is something Taron needs, Colin wants to give it to him.

He turns, joins Taron on the mattress, settling between the younger man’s legs, keeping them spread apart. There is something incredibly exciting about this, about having Taron vulnerable and open for him, and Colin doubts that it will ever change, no matter how long they stay together.  
It’s difficult to believe this is real still, and it still makes Colin wonder just how he deserved this.

For a moment, Colin doesn’t do more than look, commit the scene in front of him to memory, wanting to remember every blink, ever breath, every reaction, no matter how small, he gets from Taron. But his patience doesn’t last, never could have with Taron spread out for him like this, and before long, Colin’s lips are back where they should be, trailing line of kisses down Taron’s spine, occasionally stopping to bite, to lick, to tease.  
It doesn’t take long until Taron is making those sweet little sounds again, something in between a gasp and a breath, and Colin relishes in them, soaking them up.

He pays attention to every inch of skin, kisses every mole he finds, laves his tongue over the occasional bruise from being too careless on set, during the other’s training, and while Colin loves every second, it seems to take too long for Taron.  
He’s rocking into the touches by the time Colin has made it barely past his shoulder blades; when he has finally reached the swell of the boy’s arse, Taron’s half-gasps have turned into little whines, little moans and Colin wants to spoil him rotten.  
“Daddy, please”, he finally breathes out, no shame clinging to the word anymore, and that’s the last straw, before another second has passed, Colin’s hands are on the other’s arse, pulling the cheeks apart to reveal a tight, pink hole, the ring of muscle twitching when met with the cool air.  
“Such a pretty thing you are”, he mutters, his lips ghosting over warm skin, and Taron whines, hips moving back against a touch that isn’t there.

It only takes another, softly muttered _please_ to break Colin, though; he leans in and licks a stripe over Taron’s hole, repeating the motion when the boy lets out what could almost be described as a moan, a sob. He doesn’t stop, varying between short, little licks and long strokes of his tongue until Taron is whimpering under the attention, his hole relaxing, twitching greedily.  
“Jesus, Colin”, he breathes out and the sound goes straight to Colin’s cock, makes it twitch, drool precome that will ruin his pants before long. Taron is moving into the touches, hips rolling sensually, and Colin gives his hole another long, slow lick, another one, before he circles the small furl of muscle with just the tip of his tongue.  
It flutters under his touch, and Colin thinks this could get addictive rather easily, eating Taron out, taking care of him.

Below him, the boy is breathing heavily, and Colin seals his mouth over his hole, sucks, his tongue still teasing the sensitive skin. There’s saliva dripping down his chin, running down the cleft of Taron’s arse, but he can’t bring himself to care, just swirls his tongue again, listening to Taron’s whines.  
Colin sets a rhythm, finding it easy to fall into it, as if they had done this a hundred times before, sucking and licking, ever so often pulling off to press a kiss to the flesh of Taron’s arse.

He makes sure that Taron is on the verge of desperation before he allows himself to do anything more, though, listening for that tell-tale hitch of the boy’s breath, the sound of crisp sheets being gripped too hard.  
And it’s not as if he had to wait for long; it’s hardly more than a few minutes until Taron whimpers out, “God, daddy, _please_ …”  
Colin gives his swollen hole one last suck before he pulls off, still keeping Taron’s cheeks spread with his hands, knowing that the cool air will feel maddening against the other’s damp skin.  
“What do you need, baby?”, he asks, and Taron gives another soft whine instead of an answer at first.  
“Fingers, Colin, your tongue, just more, please…”, he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse although Colin hasn’t even made him scream yet.

And Colin can do that, oh, he can. He doesn’t bother to answer before bending down, sealing his mouth over the other’s hole again and sucking hard, but instead of teasing the tight muscle with his tongue, he firms it, slides it inside.  
The friction rips a long moan from Taron’s lips, loud and breathless enough to make Colin do it again, and again.

He finds a rhythm that seems to work for both of them, fucks his tongue into Taron slow and deep, curling it upwards every time he pulls out so he can tease the boy’s rim. Taron has always been easy to read, and Colin is surprised to find that even like this, with his face buried between Taron’s cheeks, he can tell just what the boy needs.  
His hole is clenching around Colin’s tongue, hot and greedy, and even if he wanted to, Colin couldn’t keep himself from giving Taron more.

It only takes a few minutes, then Taron is rocking back against every thrust Colin gives him, moans and half-uttered words spilling from his mouth as if he just couldn’t control them any longer. And maybe he can’t, Colin realises halfway through a thrust of his tongue, and the thought is enough to make his breath hitch, a small moan escaping him.  
A small moan that Taron replies to with one of his own immediately, his hole clenching, fluttering.  
“God, daddy…”, he whimpers, voice muffled against the pillows, and Colin gives him an especially hard thrust, then pulls off. His own cock is so hard it aches at the thought of fucking Taron, leaking precome.

“What do you need, baby?”, he asks, although he knows, or at least thinks he knows, just what Taron will ask for. “Tell me.”  
There is silence, just heavy breathing, the rustling of sheets, for a few seconds, and Colin is considering slapping Taron’s arse in punishment – he really is getting into this role, isn’t he? – when the boy finally answers. “Touch me, please, let me come, need to-“

Colin can’t help but smile, place a soft kiss on the dimple just above his arse. “Of course, baby.”  
His jaw, his tongue are aching, but Colin ignores that for now in favour of leaning down and pushing his tongue back inside of Taron. Again, he is rewarded with a desperate moan and the other pushing back, clearly needing even more.  
And Colin gives it.

It takes a few moments until he’s found a way to keep his balance and yet reach around to wrap his fingers around the other’s cock in a tight grip, giving him something to fuck into, but he manages. Taron snaps his hips forward and Colin wishes he could eat him out properly and give him the hand job he deserves, but even fifty-five years on this Earth haven’t granted him this ability, so he just lets the boy fuck into his hand, loving how Taron’s precome has slicked up his palm within a few thrusts.

He forces his tongue deep into the boy again, then pulls out so he can lave his tongue over Taron’s stretched hole; what pushes the boy over the edge is when Colin presses a filthy kiss to his hole, sucking on the sensitive, swollen rim.  
Two, three hard thrusts into Colin’s fist and Taron is spilling all over his hand, his hole clenching around Colin’s tongue as he tries his best to lick, kiss, fuck Taron through his orgasm.

There are moans still spilling from the boy’s lips, Colin’s name mixed in between them, and Colin soaks them up, twists his hand while pushing his tongue inside of Taron one last time, milking even the last drops of come from him.  
Taron is still shaking with aftershocks when he goes boneless, barely giving Colin time to pull his hand back between his legs. Sitting back on his feet, Colin looks down on the mess he made, Taron all but collapsed on the mattress, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his hair mussed.  
He’s so beautiful it makes Colin’s heart ache a little.

Although he could just wipe his hand on the sheets, knowing that they will be changed the next day, Colin brings it to his lips, sucks the come off his fingers, licks it off his palm. Taron turns his head lazily at the wet sounds, a blush appearing high on his cheeks when he notices what it is Colin is doing.  
His lips are parted slightly, and Colin just can’t resist, smears a bit of come across them, making them glisten. Taron makes a little surprised sound, too quiet to be described as a yelp but not close from it, but darts his tongue out to taste anyway.

“What ‘bout you?”, the boy mutters a second later, and it takes Colin a bit too long to realise what he means; it’s not as if he had forgotten about his own aching cock, he doubts he could, but just that the sight of Taron like this seemed so much more important. And yet, even once he knows what question he should answer, he doesn’t know what to respond.  
Although Taron seems blissfully fucked out, he is fairly certain that the other would agree to everything Colin could ask of him, but that is what Colin doesn’t want. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Taron when he’s so out of it, doesn’t want to fuck the boy when Taron won’t get anything out of it. No matter how his cock complains about this line of thought, reminds him how tight Taron was, how greedily his hole twitched around his tongue when he came.

It’s a decision he makes within seconds – he’d love to see Taron’s face painted with his come, but that is something they need to talk about first, no matter how tempting the idea is – and yet he doesn’t answer for another few seconds, instead leans down to kiss Taron sweetly, before pulling back again.  
“Can you get on your hands and knees again, baby?”, Colin asks, strokes his hand down the expanse of Taron’s back, his touch soft and hopefully soothing. “Keep your legs closed nice and tight for me?”

A moment passes, then Taron nods, even if his motions are still slow, sluggish. Colin loves it, the evidence just how good he made the other feel.  
“But can I get another kiss first, daddy?”, Taron asks, his voice so soft and small it makes Colin’s heart overflow with affection; the boy sounds so unlike himself, so open and vulnerable, and if this game is what gets him this way, then Colin knows he won’t mind continuing like this at all.  
He doesn’t answer this time, just bends down and kisses Taron, licks past his lips and into his mouth, tasting a faint hint of come without knowing whose tongue it’s clinging to. Taron kisses back a little bit lazier, letting Colin lead, dominate, take what he wants and give what he is willing to, only pulls back when his lips are pink and slightly swollen.

Those pretty, pink lips curl up into a smile, and then Taron pushes himself up again in the same position as before. If anything, the sight is better this time but Colin doesn’t waste any time taking it in, too desperate to find release as well to do so.  
He swipes his finger over the soft flesh of Taron’s thigh, finding the skin there slick with his own saliva, with the boy’s sweat. It should be enough, so Colin doesn’t bother with lube for now, instead just gets up quickly, shucks off his shirt and trousers, leaving them on the floor for now, because he just cannot be bothered with keeping the room tidy right now.  
Taron is watching him with dark, hooded eyes, so Colin pulls his pants down slowly, listening for that sharp interest of breath when he frees his cock. It’s hard, the head peeking out beneath the foreskin dark and glistening wetly, and Colin hisses when the cool air hits his skin, the hint of sensation enough to make his cock dribble more precome.

“Jesus fuck”, Taron breathes out, sounding wanting even though he has just come, and Colin would be lying to say that it doesn’t do wonders for his confidence. “If I hadn’t just come, I’d ask for round two.”  
Colin raises an eyebrow, wraps his fingers around his shaft and gives it a slow stroke; who he wants to tease more, himself or Taron, he doesn’t know.  
“You’ll have to fuck me tomorrow, daddy”, the other mutters and Colin walks closer again, kisses Taron with just a hint of heat, enough to make him want.  
“I will. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down the next day”, Colin promises, not sure where the words are coming from; they feel right nonetheless. “I’ll make you scream. Make you beg for your daddy.”

And Taron seems to agree, because his breath hitches, his eyes widen as he licks his lips, as if trying to find a last hint of Colin’s taste there. “Fuck, daddy…”  
He would love to do just that, fuck Taron into the mattress, but for now, he just joins the other on the mattress again, presses a kiss to Taron’s shoulder, the broad expanse of his back. Colin’s knees are on both sides of the boy’s legs, and he presses in closely, guides his cock in between Taron’s thighs.

The friction is heavenly, makes him groan, grip the other’s hips tightly so he can pull out, thrust hard between Taron’s thighs again. They tighten around him, increasing the friction until it’s so good he can hardly bear it.  
“I wish I could fuck you properly right now”, Colin gasps out, can’t stop the words anymore, once he has started. Again, he snaps his hips, fucks into that delicious tightness, and this time, Taron moans as well. “You’d be so tight, wouldn’t you be? Hot and slick, just for me…”  
“Yes, yes, daddy”, Taron all but whimpers, bucking back against Colin, making the next thrust so much better, so much harder. The head of Colin’s cock rubs against Taron’s balls, making the boy mewl, making him babble. “I’d be so good for you, promise, let you fuck me open, let you use me, want it so much, daddy, please…”

Colin doesn’t doubt it, not for one second, especially not now when Taron is moving with him so easily, making sparks of pleasure travel up his spine with every thrust, his toes curl. And yet, he still asks, “Really? You’d be a good boy for me? Make me proud?”  
For one, wild second, Harry is in his head, uttering the same words to the boy he loves instead, and Colin can’t help but wonder just how much of Eggsy’s need to please is inside of Taron, if he could ask as much of him as Harry does of Eggsy. It's something he considered before, Taron has considered too - that beautiful mentor-protegée relationship taking a turn in amother direction, twenty-four hours of talking and making plans turning into a day of kissing and making love, sweet touches and tender words.  
He can see it and Taron can too; it's what made Harry realise that maybe, he didn't just consider Taron a friend and colleague but something more, and it's what he knows Taron has thought about while jerking that pretty cock of his. Colin never asked to hear just what it is that his boy imagined them doing, and now he regrets it, wonders if they can maybe turn that into a little game as well, fucking and character-building at the same time.  
It could seep into the way they play them, change them, but that is something he can consider another time.

“ _Yes_.” The answer brings him back to reality; it is a sob, relieved and needy and aroused, and Colin thrusts in between Taron’s thighs, hissing when the tender skin rubs against his cock in the best possible way. “Please, daddy, please, I’m- I need – touch me, please…”

At first, Colin doesn’t know what he means, but then he realises, snaps his hips again, because he cannot stop himself, then slides his hand around Taron’s body to find his cock half-hard, no matter how impossible it seems. The advantages of youth, really.  
“Oh baby, again?”, he groans, slowing down his thrusts to wrap his fingers around Taron’s shaft, giving him a few strokes, messy and far too fast, but enough to get the other’s cock to harden under his touch. He must still be oversensitive after having come just a few minutes ago, but there’s nothing but moans coming from Taron, gasps and groans and greedy rolls of his hips. “Want to be fucked that much, huh?”  
There is a motion that Colin thinks must be Taron nodding his pretty head, and it’s enough to make Colin squeeze the boy’s cock harder, allowing himself to pick up the pace of his thrusts, fucking in between Taron’s thighs like he needs to. “I will, I’ll fuck you so good, fill you up with my come, claim you…”

What he says makes Taron keen, push back against him hard, and that is all that it takes; Colin comes in between the other’s thighs, his whole body trembling with the force of it. It must be the mixture of the time he spent waiting and the way Taron moves against him, how he moans and submits so easily to him, but Colin can’t remember when he last has come this hard.  
He keeps thrusting, riding out his orgasm in between Taron’s thighs, feeling, even if rather detachedly, how the boy jerks between his cock and his hands, trying to get as much pleasure out of this as possible.

He’s still mewling, rocking his hips when Colin comes back to himself, and although he wants to give Taron everything he needs, Colin cannot keep himself up any longer. With one, last thrust, made slick by his own come, Taron’s sweat, he pulls out between the boy’s thighs, falls down next to Taron, who whines, pouts, makes Colin laugh.  
His muscles are still relaxed from his orgasm, so he can’t even be bothered to do more than raise his hand, put it on Taron’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.  
“Oh you wicked little thing”, he mutters affectionately, takes a few dee breaths to calm down before he continues. “Come on, over here, baby. Let me take care of you.”

The boy starts to move, slowly, his cock bobbing hard between his legs, and Colin is captivated by him like he was so often before, watches until Taron stops, unsure of what to do. Asks, “Where’d you want me?”  
“On my stomach, straddle me.”  
The words make Taron blush, but he does as he is told anyway, just like he did all night, throws one muscular leg over Colin’s stomach, slowly lowering his weight onto him. He feels right there, warm and solid, and Colin slides a hand over Taron’s thigh, feeling the muscles jump under his touch.

He could jerk Taron off right there, make him come, and it’s a tempting thought, but there is another one in Colin’s head that sounds even better. So instead he orders, “Touch yourself.”  
“W-What?” Taron’s voice falters, confused and a little bit shocked, the prettiest blush on his cheeks, and Colin would take it back if he hadn’t seen Taron’s cock twitch at the suggestion.  
“Touch yourself, baby, give me a little show”, he repeats instead, gently, slowly, squeezes Taron’s thigh reassuringly. “I want to watch you come.”  
If anything, Taron’s blush deepens, but Colin’s words and touch seem to have swayed him anyway; the reaches down and takes his cock in one hand, using the other to steady himself, starts to stroke it with slow, unsure movements.

“Like this?”, he asks, still shy and so sweet Colin wants to eat him whole. He’s looking for guidance, and Colin can give him that.  
“Swipe your thumb over the head”, he instructs Taron, who does it a second later, still looking unsure, but getting bolder now that he is told what to do. “Slowly, baby, no need to rush… do it again, but let yourself feel it.”

Having Taron sitting on top of him, jerking himself off is almost too much, but Colin can’t tear his eyes away, tries to commit every detail to memory, the way his thighs flex and the heavy breathing, how Taron hasn’t looked away from him for one second yet.  
When he teases the swollen head of his cock this time, the friction is enough to draw a moan from Taron’s lips, soft and breathless and utterly beautiful.  
“Very good”, Colin mutters, praises, and Taron’s hips jerk forward, precome dribbling down his shaft. “Do it again, then wrap your hand around your cock. Not too tight, just enough to tease…”

His voice is deeper than usual, a little hoarse, and maybe Taron notices, because his breath comes quicker all of a sudden, even before he does what Colin is telling him to. The flush is still high on his cheeks when he does, wrapping his hand around his shaft properly now, his grip tightening ever so slightly.  
He’s so eager to be good it is almost killing Colin, is making him dizzy.

Without thinking about it, he squeezes the boy’s thigh, dragging his thumb over the sensitive flesh on the inner side. “Such a good boy for me”, he praises, watches Taron’s hips roll into his own hand again, wonders just how far he could undo the boy without touching him, if he could make him come with just his words. “Stroke yourself, but stop when you get close…”  
Almost immediately, Taron’s hand starts to move, sloppy strokes that betray just how turned on the other is, how beautifully close. Again, Colin squeezes, lets his hand wander further up the other’s thigh until his fingertips are just brushing Taron’s hips, ever so lightly.  
The touch is enough to make the boy shiver again, hips snapping up while Taron keeps pumping his cock, little gasps and moans leaving his lips, Colin’s name woven in between them.

“Oh, oh, Colin, daddy, please”, he breathes out and Colin puts his second hand on Taron’s hip, feeling him rock on top of him, moving in time with the jerks of his hand, the slick head of his cock peeking out of the ring of fingers with every stroke.  
Colin wishes he could lick the precome away, taste Taron, but he doesn’t dare to shatter the moment. So instead, he just watches, listens to the boy’s sounds growing more desperate with every snap of his hips, every stroke.

It goes on for moments or minutes, Colin loses time, while Taron’s breaths turn into whimpers, every second word falling from his lips a _please_. But it’s only when Taron is trembling on top of him, sweat making his skin glisten, when he has slowed down twice to keep himself from coming without permission, that Colin shows mercy.  
“You’ve been so good, baby, you can come now”, he mutters sweetly, finally does what he wanted to do the whole time; puts his hand on top of Taron’s, uses it to make the boy’s move faster, tighten his grip.  
Taron can’t have expected it, because he mewls, keens, snaps his hips forward hard.

It doesn’t take more than two, three more strokes, then Taron is coming with a cry of Colin’s name, cock spurting hot come all over their hands, Colin’s stomach. The sensation takes his breath away, and it’s strange because he has been talking about claiming Taron and yet he is the one who feels claimed, is marked by this gorgeous boy perched on top of him.

Taron looks down at him for another few short seconds, aftershocks wrecking through him, then he all but collapses on top of Colin, falling forward so Colin has to catch him in his arms, the mess on his stomach being smeared onto Taron’s skin as well.  
For a little while, he just holds the boy, presses a kiss to Taron’s temple, stroking his hand down the other’s back.  
“Okay?”, he asks softly, and Taron nods against his shoulder, staying still for a bit longer before he turns his head, looks up at Colin from the strangest of angles. There is still a hint of that haze he has seen before left in Taron’s eyes, but it’s disappearing quickly, fading to make way for that familiar glimmer, the cheekiness.

“Don’t think okay covers it”, Taron mutters, but with a hint of a grin. “You damn near broke me, you fiend.”  
“Is that you complaining?”, Colin asks, raises an eyebrow, draws a heart onto Taron’s shoulder blade, a confession of some sort, and one the boy seems to have noticed, since the blush on his cheeks darkens, he hides how his smile grows shy by turning his head, pressing a kiss to Colin’s chest.  
“No. Definitely not. Don’t let it get to your head, but I’m pretty sure that it’s been at least five years since someone made me come twice within an hour.”  
“Oh I definitely intend to let that get to my head”, Colin promises with a chuckle, keeps running his fingers up and down the other’s back, just little, soothing touches. It seems like something Taron needs, at least judging from the way he arches into it, trying to get more. “Ands I intend to do it again, if you let me.”  
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Taron snuggles closer, nuzzling Colin’s neck, who wraps an arm around him, uses the other to pull the sheets over them. They’re both sweaty and there’s come drying on both their skin, but staying like that seems like a small price to pay for not moving.  
“Sleep?”, he asks, just to make sure that Taron feels the same, and the boy nods, yawning a little, shifts and moves until he is not lying on top of Colin anymore, but next to him, only Taron’s head and part of his chest pillowed on Colin’s shoulder.  
“Good.”  
Colin kisses the crown of Taron’s head once more, then lets his eyes drift shut, exhaustion creeping up on him. He’ll be a wreck tomorrow, but God, was this worth it.

The last thing he feels before he drifts off is Taron’s finger, drawing a little heart onto his chest in answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorrry anymore.
> 
> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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